


I Am a Storm from Nowhere

by lunasenzanotte



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crimes & Criminals, Denmark National Team, First Time, M/M, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel is constantly on the road, never staying for long in one place. One day he meets Simon. And it doesn't change anything. Or maybe it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am a Storm from Nowhere

The first time Daniel meets Simon is when he comes to this little town, long forgotten if not by God then surely by civilization. He stops his Harley in front of something that looks like a small shop, but actually serves also as post office and information service in case someone needs it. It doesn‘t seem like many people come to this town anyways.  
  
When he walks in, the three people in the shop immediately turn their heads to him. It‘s been a long time since this could make him nervous. Still, he doesn‘t like it when people stare at him too much.  
  
He comes up to the older man behind the counter, buys some newspaper he knows he won‘t read, and then asks where it would be possible to sleep here. Because it‘s more than obvious that this town doesn‘t have hotels.  
  
The man directs him to a bar, the only one in the town, and tells him that there is a room or two where he could sleep. The town is not used to visitors, he adds. Well, that Daniel could tell himself.  
  
The bar is an old building almost at the end of the town. Daniel walks in and looks around. There are wooden tables and chairs, a billiard table and a bar with a not really big choice of drinks. Everything is old-fashioned and looks like someone has just blown the dust from it a moment ago. There is dust even in the air and the slowly setting sun reveals it, turning the scenery into a grainy old photograph.  
  
Considering the probable population of the town, half of it is probably currently sitting here as the bar is almost full. Daniel feels the eyes on him as he walks through the room. Behind the counter, there is a... Daniel decides to call him  _kid_ , because no way he will call him a _man_. He‘s awfully young, awfully blonde and awfully pale. Not that Daniel is old, dark-haired or extremely tanned himself, but he would say he looks normal. This kid seems like he takes all his features to extremes.  
  
"You‘re the owner of this?" Daniel asks.  
  
The kid shoots one look at him, which is probably meant to say  _Do I look like it?_  and goes back to cleaning some glasses.  
  
"My father,“ he answers. "But he‘s not here.“  
  
"In the shop they told me I could sleep here tonight, as there is no other place really...“  
  
"I guess,“ the kid shrugs noncommittally. "There are rooms upstairs.“  
  
"Fine. I‘ll have a beer.“  
  
The kid hums and doesn‘t even lift his head when Daniel walks over to an empty table. Daniel takes off his leather jacket because the air in the bar is heavy and warm. He doesn’t like to take his jacket off. He feels kind of vulnerable without it. When he wears it, the looks people give him slide down the leather every time.  
  
The beer lands in front of him without any comment. The people here seem to be mistrustful towards strangers, but curious. The kid looks like he doesn’t give a damn about Daniel. On one hand, Daniel likes it. On the other, it strangely irritates him.  
  
A man enters the bar, car keys in his hand. He makes his way straight to the counter. Daniel watches him talk with the kid, then the kid nods towards him. The man comes over to his table.  
  
“You wanted a room?” the man asks.  
  
There is something similar in his voice and the kid’s, even though the man’s is deeper and louder. It’s the only way for Daniel to tell this has to be the kid’s father because otherwise they don’t look too much alike.  
  
“Yes. For a night or two.”  
  
The man nods and keeps looking at him like he is considering whether letting Daniel sleep in his house is a good idea or not.  
  
“Money is not a problem,” Daniel adds.  
  
“Don’t worry about money,” the man says. “Nobody’s slept here for so long that I don’t even remember how much we used to charge for it. You give what you can.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
“The Harley outside is yours?”  
  
Daniel nods.  
  
“I’d move it from there to the backyard if I were you. Not that someone would steal it, but people here have the strange obsession with riding bikes or even cars while drunk.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Simon will show you,” the man says, nodding towards the kid behind the counter.  
  
A thought runs through Daniel‘s mind that the name just doesn‘t fit. Daniel doesn‘t like when the name doesn‘t suit the person.  
  
“You’re leaving again?” the kid asks the man but he just hums and walks out.  
  
 _This they definitely have in common._  
  


~ ~ ~

  
Simon helps Daniel park the Harley in some shed in the backyard that belongs to the bar. He seems to be far more interested in Daniel’s bike than in Daniel himself, and the strange irritation is growing inside Daniel.  
  
He by no means fits in here. If he put on a checkered shirt, washed-out jeans and scuffed shoes, maybe they wouldn’t stare at him like this. But he knows it’s better when people stare at his bike or jacket. They don’t remember his face afterwards.  
  
Daniel puts his bag in one of the rooms upstairs. It’s simple but clean, it smells of wood and soap. There is not much more than a solid bed with checkered linen, a chest of drawers and a lamp, but it’s even more than Daniel needs. He takes a look out of the window. It’s already getting dark. Daniel takes a map out of his bag and switches on the lamp. He is quite sure this place is not even on the map. Even better for him.  
  
He takes a shower and then walks out of the bar. There is nothing to see in the town, but he just wanders about. The fresh air always calms him down and the darkness covers him like a veil. He feels free in the real sense of the word. When he rides his bike at suicidal speed, sees the world blurred in the corners of his eyes, gets pleasantly drunk at some bar with loud music and fucks someone’s brains out, his body feels free. But his mind needs this. Silence, darkness, fresh, clean air and no one by his side.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
When he comes back, the bar is empty except for a group of four men who are fairly drunk and are now refusing to leave despite the kid’s efforts to tell them that the bar is closing.  
  
Daniel thinks that it’s not his business. It definitely isn’t and he knows better than to get into fights somewhere when he wants to be as discreet as possible. He used to do this kind of mistakes when he was younger. Then he understood that he was no fucking knight on white stallion and that people should cope with their problems alone.  
  
The kid also doesn’t seem to be looking for his help, but truth is that words no more work on those guys because of the amount of alcohol in their systems, and the possibility of the kid managing to kick them out all four is quite slim.  
  
Daniel doesn’t know why he is setting himself rules when he always breaks them.  
  
“He told you to go home!” he says loudly enough to make himself be heard over their drunk voices.  
  
He knows that apart from making people’s voices louder, alcohol also makes people braver than they usually are. One of the men gets up from his chair and looks at him.  
  
“And you are who?” he asks derisively.  
  
“I’m the one who will throw you through the closed door if you don’t leave now,” Daniel says calmly.  
  
He’s not even kidding. It’s been a long time since he last did it, but it wouldn’t be the first time. The guys probably can see that, because after some  _Calm down, man, we’re leaving..._  and  _Comes from who knows where and behaves like he owns it here..._  they walk out of the bar and soon their drunk voices fade in the darkness.  
  
Daniel turns around and braces himself for some  _I could manage myself_ , but the only thing he gets is the kid‘s warm smile.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
There is a problem, actually. Daniel either can see inside people or he doesn’t give a damn about them. This kid is different. Enigmatic. Like Daniel cannot quite grasp him.  
  
He clears his throat.  
  
“To ask for some dinner would be probably too insolent, right?”  
  
“Why?” the kid shrugs and disappears in one door.  
  
Daniel wonders where he has landed himself this time.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
The food is not the shitty stuff he is used to from inns and fast food restaurants. It‘s homemade food that doesn‘t swim in grease and smells like what it‘s supposed to smell. It reminds him of childhood that now seems a hundred years away. Because Daniel feels a hundred years old, no matter that he‘s not even thirty yet.  
  
The kid sits opposite to him and strangely Daniel doesn‘t mind. There are no stupid questions asked, no usual  _What do you actually do?_  or  _Where are you heading?_. Daniel is not even sure if he‘s told the kid his name, but it feels kind of stupid to do it now. Names are not important anyways.  
  
He gets the feeling that this is the kind of relationship he would like. Someone present but not intrusive. Someone who would just sit in silence but understand. Because he feels like the kid understands. In a way understands who Daniel is. Not who he really is or what he does, because then he wouldn’t be just sitting here with him that calmly, but understands who Daniel is inside.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
Daniel is sitting on the bed, staring on a picture on the wall that tells him nothing but is the only decoration in the room. If there is something Daniel hasn’t learned yet, it’s to fill the time gaps between work and rides. When he is supposed to rest, he doesn’t know how to kill time. He’s not an avid reader and TV bores him. Besides, there is nothing to read and there is no TV in the room.  
  
When he hears a knock on the door, he calmly looks in that direction. There were times when such knock could make him jump up and think of escape ways. But such instincts wear off with time.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
The door opens and the kid walks in, handing Daniel a dark blue blanket. Daniel blinks. He either landed in some alternate universe, or the appropriate answer for this gesture isn’t  _thank you_.  
  
“This is the lamest excuse I’ve ever seen,” he says.  
  
If he misjudged the situation, he will just get up and leave, no big deal.  
  
The kid moves closer and practically clings to Daniel, like a child climbing the mother’s lap, closing the distance between them but not kissing him. Just offering himself to be kissed. Daniel suddenly gets the feeling that if he takes the offer, nothing will be like it used to be, but he takes it nevertheless. He tastes Simon’s lips just a little at first, his hands moving up the boy’s chest.  
  
He smells of peppermint gum and herbal shampoo and soap and washing powder and all kinds of clean Daniel can think of. It makes his head spin a little. His random fucks usually smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol, sweat and gasoline. They are not young boys from the end of the world who smell of soap and are entirely sober while kissing him.  
  
His hands are under the boy’s shirt. Something in his brain tells him he can’t back up unless someone makes him, and that’s the reason why he finally pulls Simon even closer and smashes their mouths together, making the kiss deep, rough, almost brutal. But whatever he does with the intention to make the kid stop wanting this is not only accepted, it seems like he’s welcome to bite on his neck, to pull his hair and say obscenities.  
  
After all, he doesn’t know why it should surprise him. They are both just a little bit fucked up.  
  
“Have you done this before?” Daniel asks, dodging Simon’s demanding lips for a moment.  
  
“Have you?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Then I’m good,” he gives a small smile. “I’ll just trust you.”  
  
“Trusting me is never a good idea.”  
  
He didn’t actually mean to speak it out loud. Simon just chuckles.  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
Daniel likes it. He likes the lack of respect, likes the way Simon is not overly impressed with him, even when he takes off his shirt and reveals the tattoo on his back. Simon just runs his hand over it, but says nothing, no questions asked.  
  
He is quite daring for a first-timer. For a while, Daniel thinks that he should at least warn him, tell him that it’s going to hurt like bitch. But then he realizes that Simon knows, expects it, from the way he closes his eyes, glueing the lids together, like a scared little kid before someone slaps his face. He entwines his fingers with Daniel’s and squeezes tight, then flexes them again. The look in his eyes is something between pain, pleasure and immense surprise, and Daniel suddenly thinks of his teenage years, of cigarettes smoked in shabby rooms belonging to older friends, endless games of pool, sloppy kisses in the parking lots, badly chilled cans of beer, headaches in the mornings and nights full of discoveries. And he envies this kid, envies him that what he experiences is something new, while Daniel himself feels like he has already seen and tried everything there is to the world.  
  
What he likes is that this isn’t like most of the fucks he remembers. There is no stupid talking, no idiotic cuddling, no empty phrases and unreal promises. Daniel lights a cigarette, using a porcelain vase on the nightstand as the ashtray. Simon just shifts in the bed, with no intention of leaving it, but he doesn’t actually touch Daniel anymore. By the time Daniel finishes his second cigarette, he is sound asleep, the blonde hair all messy and a tired smile on his lips. Daniel smiles for himself. Suddenly he doesn’t feel that old when he can still wear out such a young puppy.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
The morning is chilly and Daniel zips up his jacket as he goes to the shed where he left his bike the night before. He checks the bike when he hears a sound behind him.  
  
Simon is standing on the doorstep. In the pale light of the sunrise, his skin and eyes look almost transparent, hair still a bit messy, like some unholy halo.  
  
“You’re leaving?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
He sounds neutral. He learned to sound neutral.  
  
“Will you ever come back?”  
  
The kid also sounds neutral. Or at least, he doesn’t sound like someone who’s in love. Thank God.  
  
Daniel can’t say yes and can’t say no. He doesn’t know where the road will lead him next week, next month, next year. Maybe he will never come back. Maybe he will come back sooner than he thinks.  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
The kid doesn’t say anything else. N _o take care,_  no  _it was nice to meet you_ , no fucking _bon voyage_. He just watches him leave. Daniel likes it. It’s like good wind in his back when he leaves the town behind.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
Whenever someone asks Daniel what he does for a living, he comes up with some vague answer. He likes to say that he delivers things. He doesn’t even lie that much. He really does deliver things. Just his idea of delivering things is fairly different from normal people’s idea. He doesn’t mind. His ideas of most of the things don’t match the normal people’s ideas.  
  
The second time he meets Simon, he is delivering one thing. Actually, he could take a completely different road, but something drags him back to that little town and the only bar there.  
  
Simon doesn’t say anything when Daniel walks in. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t throw him out, just gives him his beer and minds his own business for the rest of the evening. Daniel plays along. He has quite a few things he has to think through anyways. And this place somehow helps.  
  
When Simon locks the door of the bar, the game is over. There are still no words, no explanations. There is no clear thinking and no consideration either. Daniel doesn’t wait for anything. He fucks the kid right on the billiard table, and if he expected him to protest, he was damn wrong. Simon laughs almost like he is drunk, only that Daniel knows that he is entirely sober. The laughter is euphoric, intoxicating, carelessly happy. It causes Daniel’s lips to curl up in a smile, something that doesn’t happen to him very often.  
  
They end up sleeping next to each other again. Just next to each other, not together. Like they are in one bed and worlds apart at the same time. Daniel lets Simon sleep in the morning and when the sun peeks out from below the horizon, he is on the road again.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
The third time he meets Simon, he is desperate and on the verge of admitting it to himself. He knows that he fucked up royally. He doesn’t yet know the consequences but knows nothing good will come out of it. He just kind of returns to the bar to get an illusion of safety because he has no other place to return to.  
  
This time he doesn’t go there casually to have a beer. He stays in the shadows until the closing hour and then slips in after the last customer leaves. And even now Simon doesn’t say anything about it.  
  
When the town goes quiet and they are in the bed that almost feels like Daniel’s own now, he tries to disperse the fear with desperate kisses. It’s of no use. And then he understands that this time, this is not what he needs.  
  
With one swift motion, he flips them over and guides Simon on top of him.  
  
He kind of expects him to simply copy his actions, to take them as a guideline at least. As always with this kid, he is wrong.  
  
What he experiences is the most delicate, tender thing he could imagine, and if he believed in feelings and shit like that, he would start having some.  
  
He forgets his usual post-coital cigarette, just stares at the ceiling, listens to their slowly calming breaths. For a moment he thinks about pulling Simon into a kiss, something he never does in this situation. But then he just looks at him and Simon turns his back to him, and solves this dilemma for him.  
  
In the morning, Daniel doesn’t leave. There is nowhere to go anymore. He lets the sunrise happen without him witnessing it for once.  
  
He wakes up in an empty bed. He takes a shower, throws his clothes on, walks out of the room. The bar is still closed, quiet. He finds Simon in the corner. The old, small television in the corner is on. Daniel walks in just in time to see his own face on the screen.  
  
Simon turns to him and from the calm look Daniel realizes that he knows. He is not shocked, surprised, disgusted. Because he simply knew it before Daniel fucked up like this. Now he reaches for the remote control and almost lazily switches the TV off.  
  
“Coffee?” he asks.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
Daniel sips on the hot black coffee. The smell is nothing like the dirty water that comes out of the machines at gas stations. This smells like home, like something solid, strong, safe.  
  
"Since when do you know?“ he asks quietly.  
  
"Since you first appeared here, I guess,“ Simon says calmly. "I had a feeling. Then, since I got to know you better, all they say now just simply sounds like you.“  
  
It’s the first time they actually talk. There is actually nothing he could call  _getting to know Daniel better_. Or maybe he didn’t need words for that.  
  
“And you never told anyone?”  
  
“Nobody ever asked me.”  
  
“Which now...” Daniel motions towards the TV. “They will.”  
  
Simon nods calmly.  
  
“Which now they will.”  
  
“So now?” Daniel asks.  
  
Simon looks at him and Daniel realizes that he is being absurd. It’s not this kid who has to solve this situation. It’s him who got himself into it, and him who has to get out of it.  
  
“Now...” Simon says quietly. “You can wait here until I unlock the door and the first person who walks in recognizes you. Or you can just shoot me and try to get away.”  
  
“Just these two options?” Daniel asks dryly.  
  
“You still get a choice,” Simon says, almost in the same dry voice. “I’ll be in the back. When you decide.”  
  
Daniel watches him get up and walk behind the counter, then disappear behind the old-fashioned curtain. He drinks the rest of the now cold coffee. Then he reaches in his jacket for his gun. He weighs it in his hand, looks at it like he sees it for the first time in his life. Of course he doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn't be now sitting here.  
  
He can hear some clinking of glasses from behind the curtain. Apart from it, there’s silence. It’s Sunday, the street is empty.  
  
Daniel gets up and walks around the table slowly. His steps sound heavy and loud, like he was wearing army boots. It would be appropriate. This is a battle. Maybe the last one, but still a battle. And he doesn’t know anything else to do in a battle than to fight it until the end.  
  
He looks one last time at the table with dirty cups, soaks in the strange atmosphere of warmth and comfort, and for the first time he feels something like regret and nostalgia.  
  
Then he grips the gun tighter and takes the safety off.


End file.
